


What Evey Knew

by Draycevixen



Series: Getting to Know You [1]
Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Angst, Clothing Kink, F/M, Humour, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First story in the three part series, Getting to Know You.</p><p>Evey and V think they know what the other one wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Evey Knew

.

V was late, again.

Evey was worried, again.

The first time he’d been late she’d been terrified that he wouldn’t return at all. V had sensed her terror and assumed she was worried about being entombed.

“Please do not worry, Miss Hammond. I have planned for your safety in the event of my untimely demise. I have programmed the locks. If I fail to return within two days, they will open for you. You will not be trapped in the gallery if my flesh proves weaker than my spirit.”

Evey had been uncomfortably close to blurting out “but I have plans for your flesh, don’t waste it on your enemies.”

V’s assumption had been wrong. Evey wanted to be trapped in the gallery, preferably under V. She hesitated to call it love, an emotion with which she’d had little experience. She knew she loved the gallery and its treasures. She knew she loved V’s wit and intelligence. She knew she loved his consideration and concern for her welfare, something else with which she’d had little experience. She knew that she would love to scream his name until she was hoarse while he… She tried to pull herself together. She tried to hide from the looming clocks in a book.

The problem was that every book she’d picked up seemed to be about love and that didn’t help to distract her at all. She’d considered the large book that V had been reading, but _The Hite Report_ just didn’t sound very interesting and she’d dismissed it out of hand. She had finally found a book that appeared to be about an orphan girl going away to boarding school. That topic seemed safe enough, but she had been reading the first line for hours, “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.”

There was no possibility that Evey would be thinking of anything except V anytime soon. Was V safe? Would he be home soon? When had she started to think of the gallery as home? Would this be the night she’d finally throw herself at him? Would he yield? Would he laugh at her, above such petty little things as her lust?

“Good evening, Evey. I am surprised to find you still up.” V had suddenly loomed up by the piano.

She could smell the faint metallic odour of blood drifting across the gallery. The book clattered to the floor, forgotten, as Evey jumped to her feet.

“Are you injured, V? You’re so late getting back. I thought something might have happened to you.”

“No need to worry. The locks are still programmed.” V’s gloved fingers plucked at his cloak. Evey could accurately read his distaste for the state of his clothes in the tilt of his head. “I am a little bloodied, but it is not my blood. I merely bumped into a few fingermen who insisted on taking a closer look at my knives. I desperately need a bath and a change of clothes.”

Evey lurched forward, tugging on the hem of her nightshirt.

V hesitated. “You have something to tell me, Evey?”  
   
Evey bit her lip hard and shook her head.

“Well, in that case, I will bid you goodnight.” With a bow, V was gone.

“I’m not wearing any knickers.” She mumbled to the empty room what she’d been on the verge of telling V.

Evey slumped back into the chair. Let’s hear if for self-control. Again. She’d managed to avoid embarrassing herself for one more day, but only barely.

She heard his bath water running, the old pipes loud in the silent gallery, and found herself drawn across the room to the door to V’s room. She pressed her body up against the wood, straining to be as close to him as she thought he’d allow. She tried to imagine V’s bathroom. A vague vision of an old fashioned claw foot bath came to mind, hazy in a mist of steam and candlelight. She giggled nervously as she imagined toy ships adrift in a sea of bubble bath, afloat above forbidden reefs.

Her breath hitched as she tried to imagine the form of those forbidden reefs. V naked in the bath was a brand new thought for Evey. So far, she’d merely envisioned him in the kitchen, dressed only in his apron while he showed her how to cook. She’d hardly spent any time at all pondering him sprawled on the sofa while she bent her head to his open fly and demonstrated her oral fixation. She’d only had the same disturbingly arousing dream a few times, of him clad only in a little pink dress, high heels and a rouged mask, after falling asleep one night while reading a psychology text. V had barely consumed her every thought.

Evey scanned her fantasies. Yes, this was definitely her first time imagining his lithely strong body completely covered in bubbles, and that happy thought made her reach for his door handle. She was surprised to find that the door was unlocked as it swung inward under the weight of her body.

She had never been in V’s bedroom before. A large well-appointed room, it was dominated by a massive four-poster bed with its canopies partly drawn. On the other side of the room was another door, slightly ajar. She assumed it led to his bathroom as a wisp of steam coiled through it. She stepped further into the room, lured by the wisp.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the candlelight and her heart jumped as she realized V was lying across the large four-poster bed. He must be exhausted. If she had known about the bed before, she would have added it to her mental checklist. Seeing V lying there, even fully clothed, equaled any of her previous fantasies.

“I shouldn’t be in here, I know.” Evey confessed, quietly.

V continued to smile at her.

While she tried to decide what to do, her body made the only possible decision under the circumstances and carried her across the room to stand at the foot of his bed. She became aware, as she tried to decide what to do next, that she was climbing onto the end of the bed and crawling up it slowly. She came to rest beside V. Evey braced for the inevitable rejection, but none came. Perhaps V merely thought she wanted to continue their endless discussions of literature from a comfortable position.

She was much more interested in the possibilities of uncomfortable positions. She stared deeply into the eyes of his mask and slowly ran one finger down his cheek, the porcelain cool to her touch. Unable to stop herself, she pressed butterfly kisses across his mask, before pressing her lips firmly to that permanent smile, trying to breathe in the man beneath.

In her dreams, V always quoted poetry, especially when her own mouth was full, but not a single stanza was forthcoming. The truth was less romantic but ultimately more satisfying. As long as V wasn’t saying no to her, she was delighted beyond the value of sonnets.

She nestled her face into the side of his high collar and breathed in his scent of leather and something indefinably spicy. She knew she should be content to be this close to him. She knew that she should let him set his boundaries. She knew that she should wait for him to make the next move. She knew her hand was moving lower.

She watched her own hand, fascinated, as her fingers curled slightly into the material of his jacket, surprised by the soft deep pile of the material. She had never thought of anything soft when she’d thought of V. Her hand slid on across the broad expanse of his chest as her bare leg stretched to slide upward across his trousers, making as much contact with him as possible. Her hand found his, the leather cool and smooth beneath her fingers. She felt the pooling wetness between her thighs as she remembered the places she had dreamed of having those gloves. Lifting it to her face, she ran her tongue slowly across its palm, loving the taste of the leather in her mouth. Locking eyes with V, she slipped one of his fingers past her lips and sucked on it with a slow and steady pressure. Pressure. That was all she could feel as her body tightened. She drew his glove to her, to cup her breast, feeling the nipple harden underneath his sure touch.

It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough when it came to V. She pulled his hand lower, down over her stomach, up under her nightshirt, to nestle between her thighs, tight against her wetness, feeling her body clench further in response. She wanted nothing else. She wanted anything he was prepared to give her. She wanted everything. She wanted to feel some part of his flesh before she lost her mind. Her hand continued its downward path, past his waistband, hovering as near to his crotch as she dared.

“I want you, V. Please, if nothing else, give me this,” her voice was loud and ragged in the quiet room.

She slid downwards, pressing hard against him, until her face hovered above her hand. Slowly, expecting to be stopped, _if_ she could be stopped, she undid the clasp of his trousers. Three buttons were now all that stood between her and the remainder of her fantasies.

One. _Flick_. She held her breath, still expecting to be rejected.

Two. _Flick_. She lowered her face to rub her cheek against him.

Three. _Flick_. She licked her lips. She slid her fingers slowly inside his fly to find… _nothing_.

 

“Evey, I thought I heard you call me…”

V stood in the bathroom doorway, his mask the only bright spot against his black floor-length hooded bathrobe.

“Evey, what on earth are you doing with my clothes?”

 

.


End file.
